Pavachean Sheriff's Posse
"A badge on Pavacho ain’t a promise. It’s a warning. When a deputy rides into town, you know someone’s already dead — it just ain’t been decided who yet."
Deputies of the Wastes
The Sheriff’s Posse is the only organized lawkeeping body on New Pavacho, though calling it “organized” is a stretch. Deputies are not bureaucrats or constables — they are killers chosen by killers. Once a Sheriff wins their badge through the traditional dueling election, they select deputies from among the defeated contestants. Every deputy has already proven themselves by outdrawing most of their peers; each is an apex gunfighter in their own right. Together they form the Sheriff’s Posse, a hard-bitten band of enforcers tasked with patrolling the wastes, answering bounties, and bringing down the worst of Pavacho’s outlaws. Their jurisdiction is simple: anywhere on Pavacho, from dust-choked badlands to fungal-vat towns.
Guns for Justice, Pay in Bounties
The Posse’s pay is as uncertain as the Sheriff’s. They live off the bounty system established by the towns — posters pinned up in saloons and community halls, with rewards pooled from local Chits and scrim notes. Deputies can claim their pay for live captures, but most outlaws end up dead; Pavacheans are too pragmatic to mourn a bandit’s corpse. Beyond bounties, the Posse is given food, drink, and shelter wherever they ride. Their presence is feared by criminals and begrudgingly welcomed by honest folk, who know that when the Sheriff’s Posse arrives, the shooting is about to start. To many, the deputies are half-lawmen, half-executioners — a reputation they neither deny nor soften.
Legends in the Making
The Sheriff’s Posse is more than a police force — it is a crucible where reputations are forged. Deputies often adopt monikers earned in battle: “Ashfang,” “Cinder-Eye,” “The Widow’s Son.” These names travel faster than the deputies themselves, whispered in outlaw camps and town halls alike. Deputies form close, almost familial bonds with each other and their Sheriff, living and dying together in the wastes. Betrayal is rare; those who’ve tried to sell out the Posse have met grisly ends. Many deputies eventually wander off to ply their trade as bounty hunters or mercenaries among the stars, but their time in the Posse marks them forever. Outsiders might see lawmen in leather dusters and brimmed hats, but Pavacheans know: the Sheriff’s Posse is a brotherhood of guns and graves, the only thin line between order and anarchy in the badlands of New Pavacho.
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